45*21

the rearranging of everything
the pattern work is intricate
upper lip spasms
the shower that owns
night celestial being.
Everyone's horse was a little different
gazing upon this abhorrent night sky
That is why he grew a fin
The cap was an arrow
they thought I said "In error"
"Princess, I got your back."
The last lines of the play
Life continued a a mollusk
and beautiful were the days
Miners talking of oxygen
It's somebodies break room
The toilet grew in the dark
Numbers are like the sequence beings of a universe
The metal workers will, like, chop their fingers off
I grew scared of not understanding my lack luster
This is what grabbed me from behind